


afterparty, aka hey girl just killed a man

by StaticPhobia



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: DSMP, Dream Smp, I feel betrayed, Tales From The SMP, Third Person POV, any askers?, bbh is a sir billiam kinnie confirmed?, my hands hurt, no beta we die like drew p wiener, oh my god he fuckin dead, sir billiam is kind of a dick, sir billiam references that one scene with quackity and techno, tales from the smp spoilers, the masquerade tales from the smp, we couldve had butler dream, what the fuck, what the fuck the fucking egg was there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29198661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StaticPhobia/pseuds/StaticPhobia
Summary: Karl Jacobs was dead.The butler stared down at his body and at the sword in his grip, slightly regretful although not truly.Sir Billiam stood behind him.A second butler watched from a distance.
Relationships: Ranbutler & Dreambutler, Sir Billiam & Dreambutler, Sir Billiam & Ranbutler
Comments: 8
Kudos: 317





	afterparty, aka hey girl just killed a man

**Author's Note:**

> the masquerade, huh?
> 
> that was so fucking cool holy shit.
> 
> don’t read if you’re easily triggered by brief descriptions of gore. rated teen and up due to violence.
> 
> this is my take on what happened from the butler and sir billiam’s povs after karl died.

His breathing was ragged, throat raw from such excessive use today. His heartbeat pounded irritatingly in his head, tired from the chase, holding a heavy enchanted sword in hand. He felt dirty, blood staining his white sleeves and gold-laced mask. Though, he supposed that was to be expected, watching as thick crimson slowly pooled underneath the boy’s fresh body, exactly fourteen deep slashes across his chest.

“Very well done, butler,” the voice came from behind him, boisterous and low per usual. His breath hitched immediately. “I might consider raising your food rations this week.”

The butler didn’t turn around, standing over the strange boy’s corpse and swallowing deeply.

“It’s a shame he had to go,” the butler sighed, then paused for a few moments. Putting the weapon into his inventory, he crouched down and reached a hand forward, pulling off the purple mask the brunette wore. His eyes were left open, a drained almond, skin paling with every minute that passed. “What an odd guest. You don’t really think he was rich, do you?”

Billiam was quiet, his footsteps echoing across polished wooden floors until the butler felt his presence to the right. The billionaire’s nose upturned slightly at the putrid scent of blood, but he supposed he’d grow used to it in time.

He considered scolding his butler for speaking, but decided not to bother, tucking both hands behind his back and keening his eyes.

“I don’t think so, no. I mean, look at him, does he look rich to you?” Billiam scoffed, throwing out a hand to the corpse for emphasis- the butler felt the swipe nearly graze the side of his head, flinching on reflex. “He’s practically in rags! Lower middle class at the very most, I’m not sure how he has any meat left on his bones. He might even be poorer than you!”

The butler frowned at that but didn’t respond by any means, staring into dead, unfocused eyes.

“He had the nerve to arrive in such obnoxiously colored clothing, too,” Billiam stepped forward and leaned over the body, looking particularly at the purple swirl in the middle of teal, hard to make out due to how ripped the fabric now was. “Butler, do you know what this symbol is?” The rich man pointed down at the center of Karl’s chest.

The servant squinted and then shook his head, “no, actually. I’ve never seen anything like it.” A beat of silence, quiet thought between the two, before Billiam asked, “what do you think it means?” 

He shrugged this time, genuinely clueless as he stood fully up, bones popping with his movement. Billiam cringed at the sound, but otherwise didn’t respond. “He definitely didn’t seem.. normal. Granted, neither was.. Drew P, I believe his name was?” The butler hummed.

Billiam nodded, huffing as his face scrunched up in disgust. “Pathetic poor man, he had no right to be at my masquerade. I’ll need you to sweep the mansion later, rid of any trace his filth was ever here.” He fixed his posture, turning on his heels away from the corpse. “It doesn’t matter. Karl will make fine nourishment for the egg, regardless of how wealthy he was.”

The butler knit his brows, unable to take his gaze away from the darkening blood and the slowly rotting body. The odd colors he dawned, the strange way his hair was styled.. it didn’t sit right with him, not at all. A pit in his stomach grew. “.. I really think we should question this, Sir Billiam. It’s not normal-“

“Silence, butler!” He shrank at the sound of the rich man’s voice, and further shriveled up at the feel of his glare looming over him. His eyes shot to the red carpet, finally away from the body, and he didn’t dare look up.

Billiam began to scold, voice laced with venom, “I don’t have time for your nonsense! You’re lucky I don’t feed you to the egg myself- if anything it’s a luxury I’m so generous as to allow you to be in my very presence. You’re to gather the remaining bodies and bring them to the egg, afterwards clean up any blood stains their corpses left on my floors.”

He began to walk away, head tilted up, but paused and turned back to look at his butler. Sternly, he added onto his previous words, “stay out of my sight, I have matters to attend to. I’m planning another masquerade soon and I need to find more guests for the egg.”

Billiam, after watching his servant frantically shake his head up and down, flashed a grin, but said nothing more. He made his way up the left staircase, dragging a hand along the railing, and disappeared into the maze of a building.

Once he was out of sight, the butler took a long, much needed breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the movement. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath in for so long. Now alone, he could finally relax, if only for a few moments.

Looking back to Karl’s body, however, he found himself sighing and his back aching even from the thought of transporting it.

Billiam wouldn’t be happy if this wasn’t cleaned up within a few hours, though. Over his time with the billionaire, he’d learnt that he was incredibly snappy, and liked things done as quickly and efficiently as possible. As long as he didn’t have to get his own hands dirty.

Begrudgingly, he began the work, hauling Karl’s body over his shoulder and carrying it to the hidden room in which the egg lied.

It was ultimately a lengthy, laborious process. By the time he was done, the sun had long set, and the bags under his eyes felt heavy. The scent of decomposing bodies was irritating, his nostrils flaming every time he thought too much about it. He’d tried covering the odor the best he could, but it wasn’t as successful as Sir Billiam likely would’ve preferred.

He stood in the egg’s room alone. Watching, as vines slowly began to sprout and curl around the mutilated corpses, one at a time.

It was Karl’s body first. He stared, stomach churning just a little, when it pulled him closer and whispered something that the butler couldn’t quite understand. 

Karl’s colorful hoodie was ever so slowly drained of all color. This was something the butler found especially strange, seeing the ripped purple swirl fade away along with everything else. The egg sucked the vibrance from anything that was red specifically- the reason Billiam insisted on red carpet for when the egg grew, though also because it matched his aesthetic- but Karl’s hoodie certainly hadn’t been red. Warm colors, yes, but teal was very much a colder shade. It didn’t add up in his head, not from what he knew about this egg.

He kept observing, gnawing on his bottom lip anxiously. It seemed the egg reacted differently to Karl’s body, confirming that he hadn’t, in fact, been at all normal. The egg was never truly picky, he himself knew that even before Billiam confessed it to him. He’d seen butler after butler be fed to it, hundred millionaires and even fellow billionaires like Billiam were no different. It consumed them all the same, taking any warm saturated colors and working until the body was ghostly. And then it’d take skin and any other organs. In the span of a few days, an entire body would be left as a skeleton.

Although of course worried, it likely wasn’t that big of a deal, right? He didn’t need to tell Billiam, he’d see it himself later on. It’d be fine.

But it was Karl’s corpse literally fading from the vine’s grasp and reality altogether that sent him truly spiraling into delirium and paranoia.

He blinked a few times at first, listening to the egg itself roar in anger and confusion. And again, bringing his fists up and rubbing his eyes, looking at the spot Karl’s body once was. It was replaced with another now, Oliver’s shriveled up body dragged towards the egg, mask dropped and arms splayed out.

Surely he’d merely been hallucinating, he decided. He felt awfully shaky on his legs, body sore from overuse and malnourishment for today. He was tired, that’s all. Nothing was wrong. Taking a few steps back, he paused for just a moment, looking at the egg, before he turned around and ran.

A vine caught his ankle, towards the end of the hallway. He managed to stay on both feet, although unbalanced, and thrashed in its grip. His breathing picked up and his vision began to blur over.

It didn’t let go- wouldn’t let go, and he tripped over his own two feet when it suddenly yanked him backwards, his mask getting knocked to the side and shattering on impact. He yelped, gritting his teeth when his head slammed against the floor. “S-Sir Billiam!” He cried out, fingers clawing at any breaks in the wood he managed to find. “Sir Billiam!”

He was tugged closer to the egg itself, his eyes tearing up when the lights began to flicker. He winced at the feeling of large thorns digging further into his skin, gasping for breath. The butler went to reach for his sword, a last resort, but something warm wrapped around his wrist.

Looking up, choking on breaths and desperation, he saw the larger figure standing over him with violent red eyes and a grin on his face. He paled, trying to pry his hand away, but it didn’t budge. The egg hushed and spoke in an unfamiliar tongue, once again alerting him of the danger.

“S-Sir Billiam?-“

“Do you feel in control, butler?” At once, he dropped his hand, only to slam his boot down onto the butler’s entire arm, a quiet crack sounding across the room. The butler howled in pain, scrunching his eyes shut. His tears still passed through, his efforts in vain, biting down on his raw lip in order to stay as quiet as possible. Blood drew from the flesh, leaking down his chin and onto the floor.

Upon getting this response, the billionaire laughed wickedly, pushing his leg down further, compressing the butler’s weak arm.

“The egg needs nutrients, butler. You know this.”

It was a good thing he wasn’t human, then- or so told Billiam, hundreds of times over again, ensuring that the butler knew his worth. That he knew he was nothing but expendable, nothing but flesh and blood that could be fed to the egg at any time.

He knew this. He had for as long as he could remember. So why did it still hurt so much?

Billiam stared down at him with blank eyes, unmoving for a few beats of quiet.

He then flashed a smile, displaying sharp canines, and lifted his boot off of the butler’s arm, to his temporary relief.

“Do you feel tired, butler?”

The lights shut off completely, but the room remained fairly illuminated by the glow of the egg and its vines. He could’ve sworn, in the corner of his eye, he saw a shine in the shadows.

Sir Billiam folded his arms behind his back, sending a solid kick right at the butler’s skull. It was enough to knock him back a foot or two, combined with the thick vine dragging him along. His head throbbed and his eyes hurt, his entire body twinged and seared with every passing moment.

The glint of a blade- he reached for his own with a trembling arm, but found it to be missing.

“There’s only room for one butler in a mansion this size,” Billiam scoffed at him, “don’t take it personally. You never meant anything anyways. You know this.” A pause and a laugh. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

The billionaire turned away from him for the last time, his figure overshadowed by another.

White and forest shoes. Tight black pants, a vest and white sleeves he swore he recognized as his own, however more filled out and pristine. Green.

The stranger’s expression was blank as well, half covered by a pale green mask. He held his sword at his side, shiny and enchanted just like Billiam had purchased for him to use.

The butler, despite how violently he shivered, couldn’t help but glare up at the figure, feeling cool netherite move against the skin on his throat.

Ever so slightly, the white haired man’s lips upturned.

He moved the sword away, winding his arm back, before thrusting it forward in one go.

The butler stood in cold silence. The egg was pleased. It whispered praise, its voice echoing across stone walls, as it dragged the body closer. He was quick to unsheathe his sword from the flesh before the blade could be taken with it.

“Well done, butler,” the rich man’s voice came from behind him, and he could hear the grin in his voice. “I’ll consider raising your pay this week.”

He smiled at the words, bringing a hand up to adjust his green tie. “For now, sort this out. I’ve scheduled a party in the ballroom tomorrow, plenty of guests. You know what to do.”

The butler nodded in silence, standing still until he heard the sound of the painting being slid over the gap in the wall behind him.

A quiet chuckle escaped him. Transporting the sword to his inventory, he strolled down the hallway, stopping in front of two gold-laced shards. He picked each half of the mask up, examining green and red jewels- fake, from the looks of it- then moved his gaze to the other butler’s lifeless corpse.

He hummed, tucking the mask away to his inventory besides the sharp, bloody weapon he’d need to clean later on.

He watched the red drain from the butler’s tie, turning it white.

He watched the life truly fade from his face.

What could he say? Billiam was right.

It was never meant to be.


End file.
